Sugar Highs, Sugar Lows
by 2muchofagoodthing
Summary: The directive had been clear: sugary foods would no longer be found on base. How could the General be so cruel? And how could Jack, Sam, and Daniel possibly survive?


**Sugar Highs, Sugar Lows**

**_The directive had been clear... sugar-laden foods would no longer be available on base. How could the General be so cruel? And how could Jack, Sam, and Daniel possibly survive? _**

**Disclaimer: These are not my characters. I'm just borrowing. There is no profit involved, unfortunately**

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I don't see it that way. The evidence supports _my_ theory." Sam and Jack were in the base cafeteria, making their choices for lunch, pushing their trays along.

Daniel joined them. "Hi, guys. You know, Sam, I'm glad you came to that conclusion, because I whole-heartedly agree. It's really a no-brainer."

"Yeah, well, it's just _not_ going to happen. So just..." Jack stopped, mid-sentence. There in front of him, the highlight of his day, the dessert cart, was completely void of its usual offerings – no luscious cakes, tempting pies, quivering blue Jello, or melt-in-the-mouth puddings of any sort. Even Daniel's favorite fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt was missing. Instead there sat, dead center, a large bowl of very boring fresh fruit.

"What the _hell?_" the Colonel exclaimed. The others were equally dumbfounded, unable to explain this very unexpected and unwelcome turn of events.

"Uh, look, guys – there's a sign on this side," said Daniel.

Sure enough, an official-looking sign proclaimed, "Due to Directive #830-e, all sugary foods have been removed from base."

"Damn! And here my mouth was all ready for lemon cake," protested Jack. He grabbed a still-green banana. "I'd like to shoot the jerk that posted that stupid sign," proclaimed Jack, brandishing the banana and sighting down its length. All conversation in the lunchroom immediately ceased.

"The 'jerk' is sitting right here," answered General Hammond from the far table, his voice heavy with meaning.

The Colonel jumped. "General Hammond, Sir?" Jack answered guiltily, quickly returning the unripe fruit to the bowl from whence it came, upsetting the arrangement and causing several large navel oranges to spill out onto the lunchroom floor.

"Colonel, the directive I've given is in response to an increase in poor judgment and erratic behavior. There has been, not coincidentally I believe, a corresponding increase in sugar and high-fructose corn syrup consumption. The sugar 'highs' and resultant 'lows' until the next 'sugar fix' could very well be compromising our security and well-being." The General's level voice of reason continued, "If you'd like details, you and any member or members of your team can meet me in my office at 13:00 hours."

"Guess we haven't been too good at 'just saying no,' then," Jack answered.

"Colonel!" The General stood up, knocking over his chair in the process.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you for the explanation, Sir." Jack knew his last comment had "pushed the envelope" too far. To demonstrate his compliance, he meekly added an apple to his tray and sat down next to T'ealc, who had already finished his lunch. Sam and Daniel picked up the wayward oranges and quickly found an empty seat.

As soon as the General left, conversation turned to this terrible turn of events.

"What are we going to do?" asked Sam, concerned. "I'll be dreaming of blue Jello...topped with a dollop of real whipped cream...that is, if I can sleep at all."

"And no more of that creamy, fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt?" Daniel rolled his eyes and shook his head. Such a fate could scarcely be imagined.

"How about you, 'T'?" asked Jack. "What do you think of all this...this..." Jack for once was at a loss for words.

"Although I partake of sweets on an occasional basis, they do not form a major portion of my diet," answered the Jaffa. "When I do partake, my symbiote protects me from what I believe is commonly known as a 'sugar high'; likewise, when I do not partake, I do not experience a sugar withdrawal.'"

"Yeah, well, that's just ducky for you," said a very disgruntled Jack. Then he had an idea. "Uh, 'T,' I was just thinking...you've finished your lunch and we haven't, so I was wondering..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If we gave you some change, would you check out the vending machines for us? Maybe they haven't cleaned them out yet."

T'ealc pondered this a moment with a tilt of his head. "Would that be wise, O'Neill?"

"Hey, 'T,' if anyone comes around, just pretend you're buying some Sun Chips! No sweat."

"Very well," agreed their friend, reluctantly. The other three carefully and, they hoped, inconspicuously emptied their pockets of any and all change.

Daniel suggested that T'ealc stash the "loot" in the gym bag that he had luckily brought with him. They all agreed to rendezvous in 15 minutes in Daniel's office.

After wolfing down their lunches, the three gathered and awaited T'ealc's return, nervously making small talk.

"He's coming!" exclaimed Sam excitedly.

"Well, 'T,' whatcha got?" asked Jack anxiously, crowding the big man and grabbing at the gym bag.

"I am not the bearer of good news, O'Neill," answered T'ealc. "Apparently all sweetened items have been purged from the machines."

"You're kidding!" said Sam.

"I am not," replied T'ealc. "The selection now consists entirely of whole wheat pretzels and soy nuts."

"Crap! Nuts to the nuts, I say," replied Jack, running his fingers through his hair and pacing the floor. "What are we going to do?"

"Indeed, the situation seems dire." The hint of a smile that had settled on the Jaffa's lips did not escape the notice of the other three. He left for the gym soon after. They glared after him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

After pacing for 15 minutes, an idea came to Jack. "You know, I was thinking…what do we eat when we go off-world?"

"Local food, if any," replied Daniel. "_Duh!_" he added.

"And MREs, too, as disgusting as they are," added Sam. "So just what's your _point_, Sir?" She had picked off all her nail polish and had begun to chew her cuticles. She had no patience at the moment for any game of "20 questions."

"Power bars!" Daniel exclaimed, the light dawning.

Jack snapped his fingers. "You got it, Danny Boy. Sugar fix, here we come!" said Jack, triumphantly.

"Yeah, fine, and how are we going to _get_ them?" queried Sam, who had finished chewing her cuticles and was starting on her nails.

"Well now, I just happen to have a plan…" answered her commanding officer conspiratorially.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Stealthily, the trio made their way from Daniel's office to the supply depot. Jack had stolen the pass from the General's desk when Hammond was at a meeting.

"This is really weird," whispered Sam. "We're breaking into our own facility?!"

"Done it before," whispered Jack in return.

"Yeah, but that was when the base was compromised," whispered Sam again.

The steel door opened easily with a swipe of the stolen card. "Okay, let's get going," advised Jack. They needed no urging.

Minutes later, after a vigorous search, the three came to the conclusion that the power bars were either destroyed or relocated. "Got plenty of MREs, but no goodies," stated Daniel, clearly annoyed.

They were just straightening up when the door flung open and…

"Freeze!" shouted several airmen, weapons ready. A flustered general followed them in. A zat went off, paralyzing the hapless Jack, who pulled down a few boxes with him before collapsing on the cement floor.

"Just what's going on here?" demanded the General. "And, Lieutenant, have you lost your _mind_, shooting an unarmed man?'

"Sorry, sir," replied Lt. Howard. "I'm feeling more than a little…uh…trigger-happy today, I guess."

"Airmen, escort these two…and the Colonel, too, when he recovers… to the VIP suite," said the General. He shook his head in disbelief and then turned on his heels.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"This is ridiculous," ranted a recently recovered Jack, pacing with increased vigor. "The whole galaxy, the whole universe, maybe, is going to hell in a hand basket, and here we are, totally screwed because someone decides that sugar is bad for you!" He looked up at the video cam, blinking red. "We can't even suffer in privacy!" he complained, waving a fist at the camera and then sticking his tongue out.

Sam was standing mid-room, wringing her hands. "Right about now I'd take Jello of any sort, blue or not." She whimpered softly.

Daniel was sitting on the couch, drumming with his fingers on the end table. "Stop it, Daniel," ordered Jack.

"Stop what?"

"That incessant…thumping!"

"I will if you stop your incessant stomping!"

"Please… Daniel… Sir. I just can't stand the… tension," Sam pleaded, her voice breaking.

Daniel jumped up, "Sam, I know how you feel. I don't know if there's such a thing as yogurt withdrawal, but if there is, I've got a bad case of it!"

Sam had begun to cry, soundlessly at first, and then with heart-rending sobs.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" complained Jack.

"Can't you see how distraught she is?" chastised Daniel, taking Sam into his arms and "shushing" her gently.

"Cut it out!" It was Jack's voice, insistent.

"What?"

"Your hands are roaming. Maybe we should call you 'Romeo' except you haven't got a 'Juliet.'"

"My love life is no business of yours, Jack."

"I'm making it my business."

"Why don't we just let the lady speak for herself?"

"I'm speaking for her, and I say, lay _off!" _Jack was trying to forcibly remove Daniel's arms from Sam's waist.

Again, the troops burst in, and again, they were carted off, this time to the infirmary.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The General was consulting with Dr. Frasier. "I never knew that sugar deprivation could cause such problems," admitted Hammond.

"It really depends on the extent of the person's dependency," answered Dr. Frasier, flipping through some charts and making notes. "Hyper-agitation is over and lethargy has settled in. If my prognosis is correct, full-blown depression is the next step."

They looked over at the trio. Sam and Daniel were awake but listless, staring at the ceiling, while Jack was absent-mindedly playing with his yo-yo while muttering incoherently.

"I'll report back to you in an hour," promised General Hammond. "In the meantime, take good care of my people."

"You know I will, Sir."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Dr. Frasier shook her head. "General, I'm sorry to report that there's been a definite decline in their condition."

"I can see that, Doctor."

Sam and Daniel were in their respective beds, in the fetal position, rocking slightly. Jack was slumped in a chair, an Air Force issue blanket completing covering him, face and all.

"Depression has definitely set in," said Dr. Frasier, sighing heavily. "I could give them some meds, Sir, but I just don't feel right doing that since…" she hesitated, not knowing how far to go with it.

"Since having something sweet would completely cure them? Is that what you were going to say?"

"Yes, Sir," replied the Doctor, clearly relieved that she did not have to finish her sentence.

"You don't have to worry, Dr. Frasier. As of 17:00 hours, the directive has been lifted."

"Sir?"

"In this case, the remedy was worse than the problem." The General cleared his throat and announced: "People, the directive has been rescinded! Make-your-own sundaes are available in the lunchroom, free for the taking."

The effect of this proclamation was immediate and dramatic. Daniel jumped off the bed with a whoop and a holler, and Jack emerged from his tent of self-imposed exile, grinning ear-to-ear.

In a moment they were walking at Olympian pace down the hallway, discussing the merits of chocolate versus vanilla and enumerating the types of toppings they intended to douse on their super-sundaes. Just before they took a corner and were out of earshot, Jack's voice could be heard: "Do you think there'll be cake, huh? Cake goes well with ice cream!"

Only Sam stayed behind to question the General. "So…Sir…why the change, if I may ask? Was it because of us?"

"Well, yes and no," replied Hammond. "Actually, the directive affected the whole base to one degree or another." He hesitated and then confessed, "Even me."

"You, Sir? I don't understand. You never were fond of sweets."

"No, but at 17:00 hours every day, I always have a large mug of coffee. With one sugar. I need that coffee…I'm a bear without it. And then I started thinking…was it really worse to be dependent on cake, or Jello, or yogurt, than on caffeine?"

"That's food for thought, certainly, Sir," replied Sam, sliding off the hospital bed. "So…shall we?"

"Definitely, Major. I haven't had a banana split in… well, I don't know how long."


End file.
